Lupe
by foolondahill17
Summary: Concerning the invincibility of youth, fragility of life, and promise of new love, even if it may be hidden amongst the glass shattered on the floor. A collection of interconnected one-shots revolving around Teddy Lupin and the struggles of a half-werewolf orphan learning to live in an unfriendly world. Ch.2, Lily had never seen Teddy cry
1. First Impressions

Title: Lupe

Summary: Concerning the invincibility of youth, fragility of life, and promise of new love, even if it may be hidden amongst the glass shattered on the floor. A collection of interconnected one-shots revolving around Teddy Lupin and the struggles of a half-werewolf orphan learning to live in an unfriendly world.

Rated: T, for tragedy, angst, mild violence, and character death

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

The Setting: The year is 2023, Ted is twenty-five. Harry and Ginny are meeting his sort-of-yes-sort-of-not girlfriend Zoe Rhinebeck for the first time. You'll learn more about her in future chapters.

Those of you who ship Teddy/Victoire will be sorely disappointed.

* * *

Chapter One – First Impressions:

Harry thought all Ted needed was an understanding, steady girlfriend to get him back on his feet…then _she_ showed up instead.

* * *

"So, Ted's coming over to dinner tonight," began Ginny from across the table.

Harry hummed an affirmative and flipped a page of his _Morning Prophet_.

"It's been ages," Ginny added.

Harry ran his eyes down the headlines, looking for anything of interest.

"He's bringing a girl."

Harry briefly scanned a piece about werewolf legislature, realized Ginny was probably waiting for some kind of acknowledgement and murmured, "About time."

"Know anything about her?" said Ginny. Harry heard her put her cup of tea down on the saucer with a quiet clink of glass. "Harry? Are you even listening?"

"Uncle Vernon always said it was bloody inconvenient to be pestered while reading the paper," said Harry.

"For Merlin's sake, he'd your godson, Harry! Aren't you the least bit interested?"

Harry peered over the top of his paper. He caught Ginny's eye and immediately knew that had been a bad idea. She was wearing the same slightly puckered, irritated expression that had used to cross her face after a frustrating Quidditch practice. "Of course I'm interested, Gin."

"Do you know anything about her?"

"Probably not anything more than you," Harry answered. He carefully folded his paper and lay it on the table next to his plate of buttered toast.

"Then that's next to nothing," said Ginny.

"It would appear so," said Harry.

"Ted's never mentioned her to you?"

"Just in passing, once or twice."

"Well?"

Harry snapped back to attention. His eyes had roved back to the paper spread flat on the table. "Well what?"

"Don't you even know her name?"

Harry smothered a sigh. Ginny's eyes were slightly widened with expectation. He knew better than to ignore her when she got like this. "It's Zoe something or other – Rhinebeck, maybe?"

"Where did Ted meet her?"

"I don't know," and Harry hastily added, "I think they were in the same year of Hogwarts – don't know how they've kept in touch, though."

"Do you know if she has any diet restrictions? I'm planning mushroom soup, Teddy's favorite."

Harry laughed, "I've no idea, Gin."

"How long have they been going? He isn't serious about her, is he?"

"Not long, I think," Harry said slowly, "I don't know if he's serious about her or not…. I don't think so from the way he was talking."

"You think she's the type of girl who could get him back on his feet?"

"Hope so," said Harry. "Ted needs a girl like that, someone to take his mind off things, to make him smile again."

The testy, impatient look melted in Ginny's eyes and was replaced by a familiar, sad-sort-of smile playing on her lips. "Yeah," she said, "It's been five years since…you know. Ted seems to be getting better, though. Don't you think?"

Harry shrugged. Ted did seem to be getting better, but still…Harry didn't approve of how his godson spent his free time, how Ted had stopped coming over to supper, and his general lack of interest he seemed to have for life. It was…worrying. Harry hoped this Zoe Rhinebeck would be a good influence on him.

"Well, hopefully she's nice," said Ginny, standing and gathering her breakfast dishes. "Ted needs a nice girl, someone solid and dependable. He's a lot to handle, hopefully she's up to it."

"We'll find out tonight I suppose." Harry flipped open the _Prophet_ again as Ginny disappeared into the kitchen.

"When do we expect them?" Ginny called from the kitchen.

"Said he's stop over around seven."

"James coming by? I know he'd like to see Ted again."

"Hm?" Harry looked over his paper in time to see Ginny throw him a roll of the eyes through the kitchen door.

"Is James coming too?"

"Erm – no. Ted requested a smaller crowd. I don't think he wants to scare her off."

"Nonsense," said Ginny, throwing back her head as if to flip her red-hair over her shoulder, only she had forgotten again that she'd cut it down to a bob soon after Lily's first-year. "What's to be scared of?"

Her cup of tea slipped out of her hand and shattered on the floor, muddy tea-leaves and shards of glass rocketing over the tile. She cursed loudly.

Harry hid a smile and as he ducked behind the pages of his paper again.

* * *

It was ten after seven, the mushroom soup was simmering on the stove, Ginny had just dashed upstairs to get dressed, and Harry was unsuccessfully trying to keep his mind on the _Evening Prophet_. Ted was late, which was a not an unusual occurrence, but Harry was finding it more irksome than normal.

It was stupid to be nervous. Harry chided himself. He had faced many things worse – Death Eaters, rouge vampires, a rampaging manticore once, and Voldemort himself – to be nervous about meeting his godson's new girlfriend was ridiculous. Nevertheless, Harry was nervous. It would be stupid to say was not.

He wondered what she would look like. He tried to erase the picture of a green-haired boy with a blond, tall, bright-eyed girl on his arm. It didn't make any sense, trying to help Ted get over Victoire when Harry, himself, hadn't gotten over her yet.

But, after all, she had been his _niece_.

And she had been young, so young and beautiful, with her life ahead of her.

But it had been a terrible, tragic, heart-rending _accident_.

Merlin, hadn't he seen enough young people die during the war? But it was so much more real, so much rawer – perhaps it was because he was older, perhaps it was because he had seen her grow up, seen her as a baby –

Harry shook his head. He had to keep an open mind. This girl Ted was bringing might be very unlike Victoire. It wouldn't do to hold that against her.

The doorbell rang. Ted had told Harry he'd be driving. Ted had been through seven attempts before he'd finally passed his test – those long seven years ago – which had been worse than Ron.

Harry measured his movements as he got up and laid his paper on the coffee table, resisting the urge to dart to the front door. "I've got it, Gin," he called up the stairs.

His fist closed around the doorknob, in his anxiousness he forgot to check through the front window, and yanked open the door.

The homemade wind chimes Lily had given him for Christmas when she was seven jingled in the light breeze, directly over the head of The Girl. Harry blinked.

At first Harry only had a muddled impression of black, white, winking diamonds, more black, heavy shadows under her eyes – Ted moved behind her, an unimportant blur of denim pants, a blue shirt with a snitch on the front, and spiked brown-hair.

"Hey, Harry," Ted raised a hand in greeting. Harry's eyes swept back to The Girl. Ted's other hand was gently caressing her shoulder, as if to usher her forward. "This is my friend, Zoe."

For a moment Harry forgot to breathe. He had always prided himself on his ability to think quickly, to react on reflex, to move with precision even in the face of the unexpected. But this…this Harry had not…he didn't know quite what he was supposed to do with _this_.

She was half-a-head shorter than Ted, thin – but 'thin' seemed not at all the right word – forget about strong and dependable, she looked as if she was about to blow away on the breath of wind, or evaporate into the coming dusk.

She was wearing black, all black, with gold and silver chains, spikes, and rings hanging off her shirt and pants – and face. Tiny, glistening studs winked back at Harry from her lip, side of her nose, above the right eyebrow, and all up and down both ears.

Her hair was black, short, and spiked like Ted's, except for the right side, where it had been shaved into a kind of checkerboard pattered. Her skin was pallid and papery looking, almost gray as if she made a habit of bathing in smoke. Her eyes were dark, bleary, and muddy looking puddles. They had dark shadows beneath them, as if she hadn't seen a night's sleep or a cup of coffee in days. Her lips were pale, they melted into the rest of her face, and were not smiling.

She reminded Harry of a vampire he had seen on a raid to Knockturn Alley.

"Er – hello…Zoe," said Harry's mouth, impulse taking over when his mind continued to thump in a vaguely insistent sort of manner that he was supposed to _do something_.

He hardly recognized he had stuck out his hand for her to shake until her fingers were in his. Her fingers were long and cold. Her grasp felt reluctant and delicate, like he might break it if he squeezed too hard. Harry could see her veins, knotted and blue across the back of her hand. She let go very quickly.

His eyes roved her face but she seemed unwilling to make eye contact.

"Zoe, this is Harry, my godfather," said Ted.

"Hello," said Zoe glumly. Her voice was deep and raspy, almost lost amongst the breeze, as though unaccustomed to use.

Ted peered over her shoulder and into the house, "Blimey, it smells good. That Ginny's mushroom soup?"

"Erm – yes," said Harry. He faltered backwards out of the way when he realized Ted and the girl were stepping inside. Ted helped her off with her tattered leather jacket. It revealed a short sleeve, black t-shirt and thin, spindly shoulders. It revealed a pattern of colorful tattoos over her pale skin.

"Ginny will be right down," Harry choked.

Ted hung the girl's jacket on the rack. The girl shuffled her feet and crossed her arms over her chest, as if she were cold. She frowned at the carpet.

"Er – you can come right this way," he steered Ted and the girl into the sitting room.

Ted loped casually to the couch and pulled the girl down with him. She was buried, awkwardly and out-of-place amongst Ginny's blue and white striped coverlet.

"So," said Ted, looking from the girl to Harry. He was clearly waiting for some kind of recognition, a nod of approval or – but Harry didn't know what to think, could hardly think at all. The girl was unsmilingly surveying the room around her, eyes darting to the ceiling, walls, and pictures on the bookshelves, anywhere but at Harry.

"How are all the Potters?" said Ted.

Harry cleared his throat, in an effort to make his voice come out, "Causing havoc as usual." He tore his gaze away from the girl, whom was examining Ginny's bowl of flowers on top of the coffee table.

"James and company?"

"The – er – landlord threatened to kick them out last weekend. Rumors to do with a mattress being thrown out the window…."

Ted laughed appreciatively, "Wish I could have bunked up with them. And Al and Lily being little angels at Hogwarts, as usual?"

Harry was almost distracted enough from the girl at hearing his children referred to as 'little angels' to laugh. Almost. "Got a letter from Sinatra about Lily – apparently she's…."

Harry trailed away as he heard Ginny's heels clicking in the hallway. He looked up, wildly thinking of same way to warn her, but it was too late. Ginny was standing in the doorway to the sitting room, frozen to the spot, and eyes popping at the girl sitting on her sofa.

Harry wondered if he had looked similarly surprised.

Ginny mouth opened, as if she was going to say something, or scream.

Ted slid off the couch and approached her with his casual, unassuming grace. He hugged her and smiled, "Hello, Ginny." he gestured to the girl on the couch, who was staring at Ginny and – if possible – looking slightly nervous. "This is Zoe Rhinebeck."

"Hello – Zoe," said Ginny, sounding as if the name tasted unfamiliar on her tongue. She looked like she had just been hit upside the head with a Bludger, exactly like after the Harpies game that she had sworn she was alright and then vomited during dinner.

"Hello," said the girl. She hopped up from her seat and met Ginny's outstretched hand with her own. She sat back down quickly.

Harry blinked and, alarmingly, Ginny's look of shock had been transformed into one of warm welcome. She had even managed a smile. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

The girl nodded. She swallowed. Ted took his place next to her on the couch. Ginny perched herself on the armrest of Harry's chair. Her hand touched his shoulder, a subtle reminder that she was just as taken aback as he, and perhaps needed something to hold onto.

"And how is everyone?" Ginny asked.

"Alright," said Ted. The girl didn't say anything. She was avoiding their gazes again, toying with a string off one of Ginny's throw pillows.

Harry cleared his throat, "we were just talking about Lily."

Ginny shook her head, "That girl. Don't know what we're going to do with her."

"What?" said Ted with a smile, "What has she done now?"

"Got a week's worth of detentions because she sneaked Amortentia into Professor Thompson's morning tea."

Ted snorted. "Who did he go after?"

"But that's the worst part, somehow she managed for him to go after Hooch – and of course it set off a whole range of things…."

"Sinatra wrote us to say Hooch almost bludgeoned Lily with a broomstick," said Harry, feeling a laugh catch in his throat as he imagined his youngest daughter being chased around the corridor by his old flying instructor. "She's lucky she wasn't kicked off the team."

"Becoming one of the best pranksters Hogwarts has seen," said Ted proudly. "At least right behind her brother."

Ginny turned to the girl and said in explanation, "We have three children, James has moved out, Al's in his last year at Hogwarts, and Lily's a fifth-year. Somehow Al's turned out to be the only somewhat decent of the bunch."

"Yes," said the girl stiffly, "Ted's told me."

"He hasn't been nearly so free with us," said Ginny warmly. "Please, tell us about yourself. We can't say how glad we are to finally meet you."

Ginny had a way, she had gotten it from her mother, of sugar-coating the truth – anything to be the proper hostess.

The girl squirmed slightly. The chains hooked to her belt loops clinked.

"What do you do?" Ginny prompted. "Are you at the Ministry?"

Harry wondered if Ginny was thinking the same thing as him, that the only department she could possibly work in was of Mysteries.

The girl exchanged a glance with Ted. She looked curiously uncomfortable.

"I don't do much," She hesitated. She gave Harry the impression she was hiding something. "I'm not at the Ministry."

Ted cut in, seamlessly, casually as everything he did was casual, but he gave Harry the impression he was also trying to cover something up. "Zoe worked with me at George's shop about four years ago. But now she's sort of looking for work, aren't you?"

The girl shrugged.

"Oh," said Ginny to Ted, "I remember now. George did mention something about a friend of yours working at the shop. But that was years ago, wasn't it? I didn't realize that was you, Zoe."

The girl swallowed again, clearly unsure of how she was supposed to respond. She half-nodded and mumbled, "I didn't last long."

Harry could understand it. For the life of him, he could not imagine this girl working at a _joke_ shop.

"What kind of position are you looking for?" said Ginny.

"Anything, really," said the girl.

There was a half-beat of awkward, pressing silence and Ginny mercifully stepped in again, "And how did you and Ted meet?"

The girl and Ted exchanged looks again. Harry looked from one to the other. Something tingled on the back of his neck, something he recognized and used while being an Auror. Suspicious. Something wasn't quite right. They were hiding something, both of them.

"Erm," said Ted when the girl didn't answer, "We knew each other in Hogwarts. Not well, since we were in different Houses, but then we just sort of bumped into each other on the Diagon one day."

"Oh," said Ginny, nodding, "And what House were you in, Zoe?"

"Slytherin," she answered tersely.

Harry thought he saw Ginny's smile flicker slightly, but perhaps he had imagined it. After all, they weren't supposed to care about things like that.

"Very nice," said Ginny. "Where do you live? Ted, did you mention something about Beckenham?" Ted, of course, had never mentioned anything about anything.

"Erm, no," said the girl. "I live in London, a flat with my mother."

Again the half-beat of silence in which it took Ginny to think of another topic of conversation. Harry felt her fingers close around his shoulder slightly, a chiding to _help her, for Merlin's sake!_

"Do you follow Quidditch?"

"No."

"Ginny used to play for the Harpies," Ted put in.

The girl forced a half-smile on her pale, thin lips for the first time that evening and said – as if the words were incredibly unwieldy coming up her throat, "That's nice."

"I played for a year after I married Harry but stopped when I found out I was going to have James. It was about time to settle down to raise a family, anyway."

The girl nodded, smile gone almost as soon as it had come.

"Well," said Ginny with exaggerated enthusiasm. She slid off the armrest to her feet. "Dinner? That soup should be done by now."

_Merlin, let it be done. _

Harry admired Ginny's grace as she extended a hand and guided the girl into the dining room. Ted caught Harry's sleeve in his fingers. He hissed into his ear, "You keep gawking."

_Well, anyone would_ – but he caught the words as they flew up his throat. "She's – erm – not what I expected."

"You'll like her better when you get to know her," Ted explained. "She's just nervous."

"How did you meet her again?" said Harry, hoping Ted would let something slip to unravel this mystery while out of the earshot of the girl.

"Just bumped into her in the Diagon, Harry, like I said," said Ted casually. But there was a subtle lilt in his voice, a slight press that warned Harry not to proceed.

Harry was used to this, used to this tension that hung around Ted's person and shut Harry out…. Ever since Victoire, he was used to it.

He didn't know how he was supposed to deconstruct it.

Dinner was an awkward affair. The girl sat beside Ted and quietly sipped her soup. Ginny and Ted carried the conversation. The girl spoke when she was spoken to. She left all her mushrooms sitting in the bottom of her bowl.

Afterward, they went back to the sitting room for tea and dessert. Ginny had made her mother's chocolate pound cake, which was ordinary a marvelous experience but this evening Harry found it rather hard to swallow.

"So," said Ginny, evidently at her wits end for conversation starters, "you said you were in Slytherin. Are you pureblood?"

Again the quiver of discomfort. Something breathed about the girl of secrets, of the unwillingness to share too much information. Harry could not imagine _why_. Blood status wasn't anything to be embarrassed about, not anymore.

As if to put her at her ease, Ginny continued, "I'm pureblood. Harry's half."

"My mum is half-blood, I think," said the girl.

"What about your dad?" Harry knew before Ginny said it that his wife should have kept her mouth shut. Sometimes she still said what she probably shouldn't. It was a trait that Ron also inherited – but to a more exquisite level. It was just who she was. She was Ginny. She was blunt.

"Don't know," said the girl tersely, perhaps with the slightest trace of warning, a slight flash of anger in her eye.

Ted hastily intervened, "Zoe's dad left when she was just a baby. She's never met him."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," said Ginny, cheeks coloring with the just the right touch of sympathy. "I didn't know."

The girl didn't answer. She tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement.

Minutes dragged by excruciatingly slowly. Finally Ted got up from the couch and pulled the girl with him.

"We should be getting on," he said. "I've got work early in the morning."

"It was lovely seeing you," said Ginny. "And meeting you, Zoe."

"Give my best to the brood," said Ted with a smile, pecking Ginny on the cheek as they moved to the door.

Harry clapped Ted on the shoulder, "Will do." He tried to catch Ted's eye, to hold his gaze and search him for anything – any answers. He tried to look for any hint of happiness, of the healing of the scars that had been left there five years ago.

Ted smiled at him and Harry let go of his shoulder.

"Thank you for dinner," said the girl, pulling on her jacket over her thin shoulders, covering up the web of tattoos. "It was very nice to meet you," again the forced half-smile. It was the longest string of words she had said all evening.

Ted waved farewell. Ginny called for them to come again soon. The door clicked shut. Harry turned to meet Ginny's eye for the first time that evening, finally alone and at liberty to – to what?

"So," said Ginny, breathing slowly. "That was – was…."

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

They moved back into the sitting room. Ginny began clearing up their dessert plates.

"What did you think of her?"

Harry tried to gather his scattered thoughts, discarding some of them. After all, he couldn't be _rude_. "She was – unexpected."

"That's what I thought," said Ginny.

"She – erm – was what she wearing the _style_ now?"

"She looked like a half-starving vampire," said Ginny, and added almost angrily, "Teddy should have _warned_ us." She went into the kitchen. Harry gathered the cups and followed her.

"It would have helped at least," said Harry. "But I don't think anything he could have said would have lessened _that_ blow."

Ginny laughed suddenly. "She was a sight, wasn't she? Poor girl. I hope we didn't frighten her."

"Us frighten _her_?" said Harry.

"I hope she's, you know, _alright_," said Ginny. "She looked kind of sickly."

"Yeah, like she'd just crawled out from under a rock," said Harry.

Ginny laughed again. "As long as Teddy likes her. I suppose we'll just have to make the best of it." Then she sighed, "Still, not quite what I'd have liked – Not really the steady, dependable girlfriend we were hoping for, eh?"

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "I hope they aren't serious."

* * *

"So?" asked Ted, watching the electric light bathed road ahead of him. Zoe was pressed into the passenger seat beside him, sort of folded in on herself and slumped, like she usually sat. Like she was trying to shrink away from the world, from the crescent moon that hung in the sky above them. "What did you think of them?"

He could hear her shrug from the clinking of the zippers on her leather jacket. "Alright, I guess" she said. "Sort of what I expected."

"I think they might have liked you," he said.

"Sure, Ted, yeah."

"Well, I like you, that's what really matters, right?"

"Sure, Ted. Yeah." He shot a look out of the corner of his eye in time to see her thin, beige-powder colored lips perhaps smile in the uneven light flickering through the window.

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, here we are another story. Really shouldn't be starting one but…whatever. Lots and lots of ideas where this is concerned but updates will probably be sporadic – like ridiculously so, just because I'm working on so much other stuff and this isn't at the top of my priorities.

Anyway, yes, everything will be explained in the future. Think of this as a puzzle, all the pieces will be found and put together as the story progresses. The chapters won't be set in chronological order, and some might be multi-parted, longer or shorter than others.

Thank you very much for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoyed. I'd be oh-so-grateful for a review; they make the sun seem to shine just a little brighter.

Also concerning the title, Lupe is one of the Algea, a Greek spirit of pain, grief, and sadness. Not to tell you what the story is going to be like, or anything….


	2. Order

And this is unexpectedly updated….

The Setting: The year is 2019. It is early summer. Ted is twenty-one. Lily is eleven, going to Hogwarts for her first-year that fall. Also, Molly – Percy's and Audrey's daughter – is called Pat, because her middle name is Patricia.

* * *

Chapter Two – Order:

* * *

Everyone was quiet. No one made a sound. Not even to shuffle their feet, or gently clear their throat, they didn't make a sound. The wind was quiet. The sky was quiet. The birds were quiet. The bright yellow wildflowers swaying in the grass were quiet.

Lily held her breath. She felt her mum's hand – cold, so cold, so quiet – tightly holding hers. She saw sunlight glint off her father's glasses and the moisture in his eyes. She saw all her aunts, uncles, and cousins, standing like solemn, marble, unmoving pillars around the grave.

Uncle George, who always smiled – it was so _wrong_ that he wasn't smiling – was standing directly across from her. He had his arm slung around Aunt Angie's shoulder, and his other arm holding Roxy tightly to his side. Roxy's twin brother Fred was standing slightly behind his father, pressing up against him shoulder to shoulder, as if to reassure Uncle George that he was still there. Children were clustered closely to parent's sides, held near, held protected, because children were so precious, so, so easy to lose.

Lily stared at Uncle George's quiet, calm, almost blank face and wondered if he was remembering his brother.

Teddy was standing on Lily's father's other side. Lily snuck a look at him, trying to catch sight of his face. All she could see was his bowed, brown-hair covered head. She wondered if he was crying. Lily had never seen Teddy cry. He wasn't _supposed_ to cry. It violated the natural order of things. She didn't know what to do.

She longed to reach out to him, to gather his hands in her own and to – to what? To whisper that _everything was alright, Teddy, please don't be sad, please, please don't be sad._

She wanted to hold him, to feel his arms around her like he'd used to when she was littler, and he'd toss her into the air. She'd shriek in delight and land back in his arms, burry her face in his chest, feel his laughter vibrate through her ears….

She couldn't imagine what he was feeling. Victoire – Victoire had been Lily's cousin but Victoire had been Teddy's _girlfriend_. Teddy had loved her. Teddy had – Lily couldn't imagine what he was feeling.

Across the silence, sounding muffled yet indecently loud, Grandma Molly started to cry. Lily looked at her and saw Grandpa Arthur hug her with one arm, silent tears streaming down his own cheeks. Lily wished they wouldn't. Lily didn't like to see people cry. She didn't like to hear it. She didn't –

She wished it wasn't so quiet. She wished someone would _say something_. She wished someone would laugh. She wished _she_ could laugh. But that heavy, gaping, pressing hole in her chest where Victoire used to be was tripping up laughter. It would bubble up from her stomach but then fall into the hole and be lost.

Lily felt sick. She felt her eyes burn. But she blinked. She didn't like to cry. Had already cried. She didn't need to cry.

People behind them started to drift away, friends of the family and friends of Victoire, some of them Lily didn't know. Lily hoped they would leave soon. Her legs were starting to hurt from standing. She wished she was younger, still small enough to turn to her dad and whisper _please, hold me, lift me, carry me. _

People stopped on the way out to hug Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill. They said in soft voices how sorry they were, how wonderful Victoire had been, how it got better as time went on. Sometimes Uncle Bill clasped their hands and thanked them. Aunt Fleur didn't do anything. She stood quietly next to her husband and stared over everyone's heads, as if she couldn't even see them. She was pale, almost glistened in the sunlight.

Lily had always thought her aunt was one of the most beautiful things alive.

Aunt Fleur didn't look old. She didn't even look sad. She looked like one of those pure white, carved statues in a park – expressionless, except for the burning in her eyes.

Lily clung to her mother's hand as they made their way out of the graveyard. Al and James followed behind them. It was unnatural; Lily had never before seen her brother's so quiet.

Everything was quiet. Everything was still. Everything was so, so agonizingly _wrong_.

Her dad was walking ahead of her mum, one arm around Teddy's shoulders. Teddy looked so tall. He was taller than Lily's dad. Lily had never before realized how tall Teddy was. His brown-hair, ugly, terribly plain, dry-dirt-colored hair, glinted with touches of copper in the light.

They all gathered at the Burrow for lunch, just the family. Lily wasn't hungry. She had never understood why it was called the Burrow. A burrow was something dirty and wet, a hole in a hill where badgers, or rabbits, or snakes lived. The Burrow wasn't like that. Sure it was messy, and smelled a bit earthy, but it was so large, and cramped, and usually so lively –

But it wasn't. Not to today it wasn't. It was cramped and noiseless and no one laughed.

Uncle George was finally smiling again, but it looked so false Lily could hardly stand the sight of it. Pat and Lucy found her, the cousins Lily always hung out with. Lucy – little, immature, flighty Lucy – suggested they play a game. Lily almost snapped at her that _no, are you crazy or something? We're at a funeral,_ but had to remind herself that Lucy was only seven and probably didn't understand.

Lily didn't understand.

Some of the older kids suggested Quidditch and Uncle Charlie said that that was a good idea. Lily didn't go out with them, marveling at how they couldn't realize that that was _wrong_.

They couldn't play Quidditch. They couldn't play games. Not when Victoire was _dead_. Not when they were just come from her funeral.

Lily left her mum and dad, who were eating with the other grownups and talking in quiet, gentle voices. She went to sit on the front step. She saw Louis tossing the Quaffle back and forth with Rose, dodging Fred. She didn't know where Dom was. She couldn't understand how Louis could play, could smile when Victoire had been his _sister_.

Lily didn't understand.

She didn't understand what had happened. She didn't understand why her mother had told Lily to leave Teddy alone, he needed to be alone. Lily didn't want to be alone. She wanted to be held by someone. She wanted someone to have the answers, to tell her the answers.

She wanted to know. She wanted to be told that everything was going to be alright. She wanted to crawl into Teddy's lap like she had when she was a little girl and have him read her stories, to hear his voice close to his ear, to hear the laughter against her hair. She – it was almost worse than to have Victoire dead, having it hurt Teddy.

Lily had never before known how much she loved him.

She never knew that this was what love was, wanting more than anything to make that person stop hurting, to take away that pain, this utter uselessness she felt when she realized there was _nothing she could do_.

If she could bring Victoire back just for Teddy, Lily thought she would. Just so he might smile again, just so his hair might once again be blindingly lime green.

It hurt. It _hurt_ to love someone.

Lily watched her older cousins playing Quidditch, zooming across the blue, cloud striped sky, and wondered how they managed it. She didn't understand how people could be so carefree, how they could hide away their emotions with a broomstick under their fingers.

Her own fingers burned to hold a broomstick. She longed to feel the wind slip through her hair, to feel it whip at her eyes until it ripped out her tears. But it would be _wrong_. It would be so terribly _wrong_.

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She smelled the light whiff of roast beef and steak and kidney pie drifting through the doorway.

She heard someone scream:

"I hate you! I hate you, you monster!"

Lily jumped up from her perch and turned to stand in the doorway, heart-hammering, not thinking.

"You – it's all your fault! You as good as murdered her!"

Lily tripped over the threshold.

"Dom…" a half-hearted chiding, a bewildered, desperate, ignorant plea. Lily recognized her Uncle Bill's voice.

"Why are you even here? You didn't love her! You couldn't have loved her!"

"Dom, stop it…."

"Let go, Dad! How can you forgive him? How can you stand to have him in the same house? He killed your daughter!"

"Dom, please…don't."

"No, let 'er speak!"

Lily clung to the rim of the kitchen door, staring at the scene in front of her. There was Uncle Bill. There was Lily's father. There was Aunt Hermione. There was Uncle Percy. There was Dominique, red-faced, tears streaming down her face, not pretty like she usually was. There was Aunt Fleur, stepping forward, a pale, calm, expressionless, murderous face, and finger outstretched, quivering with rage and sorrow – love that Lily had never contemplated. There was Teddy, pressed against the counter, staring in wide-eyed terror at Aunt Fleur.

"She eez right!" Aunt Fleur shrieked. Her white-blond pulsed over her back as she faltered forward. "You did kill 'er! You killed my daughter!"

"Fleur." Uncle Bill's voice wavered. Lily couldn't breathe.

_No. Not him. Uncle Bill couldn't cry. He couldn't. Can't. Can't possibly. _

Lily heard shuffling behind her and realized her cousins were coming in from outside, roused by the shouts. Her other aunts and uncles were coming in from the sitting room, were gathering behind her in speechless shock.

"Ow could you? 'Ow could you 'ave been so foolish? You should 'ave known! You should 'ave never touched her! Never 'ave been near her!"

"Fleur." Aunt Hermione stepped forward, held out a hand. Aunt Fleur pushed her away.

Teddy seemed to sink, seemed to dissolve against the background, seemed to go whiter and whiter until Lily was sure he was going to fade into the air, transparent.

"You should never 'ave been allowed to see her! Ow could we have allowed you to be near our daughter? You – you – it _eez_ your fault! If it wasn't for you, my daughter would still be alive!"

Lily wanted to clap her hands over her ears. She wanted to scream along with her Aunt Fleur and burst into tears. Instead she watched in stunned, terrified disbelief. She had never seen Aunt Fleur lose control like this.

"Fleur, be quiet!" Uncle Bill rushed forward. He forced himself between Aunt Fleur and Teddy, grabbed her arms and pressed her head to his chest.

She screamed into his shirt and dissolved into tears. Teddy pushed himself away from the counter and staggered toward the back door.

"Teddy…." Aunt Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper, a hopeless, useless, clueless whisper.

"Ted –"

"No, Harry." Teddy was shaking. He was shaking. Lily was shaking. Hugo stepped up beside her, mouth hanging open.

"Ted, wait –"

"No, Harry. Let go! Just – just _no_!" Teddy pulled himself away from Lily's father and walked away. He tripped through the back door, which shut behind him with a rattling slam.

Lily was shaking. She was shaking. She was shaking, shaking, shaking. It wasn't Teddy's fault. Couldn't possibly be Teddy's fault. _Oh, please, make it stop._

Aunt Fleur was buried in Uncle Bill's arms, screaming with tears. Lily stared at her, hearing her voice shriek in echoes in Lily's head. She hated her. Lily hated Aunt Fleur for saying such things.

Lies. All of them were lies. It wasn't Teddy's fault that Victoire was dead – wasn't his fault that he had loved her.

* * *

Of course Lily couldn't sleep. She rolled beneath her blankets and stuffed her pillow beneath her head, trying to find a comforting crevice in her bed, trying to let this restless, pounding, squirming thing in her stomach ebb away.

Teddy had gone directly to the Potter's, after he had left the Burrow's kitchen. He had locked himself in James' room and not come down for supper. Lily supposed he hadn't anywhere else to go. But she was glad he was there, relieved but she couldn't put her finger on why.

All she knew was that her mother and father had been frantic, but then been relieved, too, when they found out Teddy was there. It was as though they had been afraid…of something. That was disconcerting.

She could hear Al snoring through the wall. Hers and his beds were pushed against the dividing wall of their two rooms. They had used to whisper to each other during the night, just loudly enough so that they could hear but just quiet enough that their parents couldn't. They had stayed up and talked until either had fallen asleep, then all would be quiet. There would be nothing but the sound of her breathing in her ears and the darkness wrapping around her room.

Lily had used to be afraid of the dark. That was why she had used to talk to Al through the wall. It had been comforting to hear his voice, to know someone was there.

She thought of Teddy, in the room across the hall, and wondered if, he too, was still awake. She wondered if he had ever been afraid of the dark, if he was now, if maybe he wanted someone to talk to.

Dimly, from beneath the floor of her room, she heard the unmistakable rush of flames that meant someone had flooed into the kitchen.

"Bill," said her father's voice, muffled by the carpet, pipes, and wood. "Come in. Of course, come in."

Her heart began pounding in her ears, so hard she couldn't hear what her parents and Uncle Bill were talking about. Silently, seamlessly, like she had done so many times when she didn't want anyone to hear she was out of bed, she slid her legs onto the floor and got to her feet. She gently padded across her room, opened her door slowly so it wouldn't creak, and crept down the hall to the stairwell.

Uncle Bill's voice was stiff and oddly restrained sounding, almost like he was angry – but not quite, almost like Uncle Percy sounded when he reprimanded Pat and Lily for playing too loudly. "I came to apologize, Harry, Ginny. I'm sorry about what happened today. Please tell Ted –"

"It isn't your fault, Bill," said Lily's mother, "We understand."

"Fleur apologizes as well," said Uncle Bill, "She didn't mean –"

"We know," said Lily's father.

"Tell Ted, won't you?" said Uncle Bill, "I would myself, but – but I –"

"Ted's beating himself up about it," said Lily's father, "You have no idea what he's going through. He blames himself –"

"I know," said Uncle Bill, "I don't mean to be hard on him. But I – I can't deny that a certain amount of responsibility – I can't forget that certain precautions – so much could have been prevented, Harry –"

"Ted is very much aware of that, Bill." Lily thought her father's voice was unexpectedly hard. Lily tentatively stepped down, clutching the rail tightly, avoiding the spots she knew creaked.

"Harry," said Lily's mother, something in it reminding Lily of the way her mum spoke when she was about to chide James for saying something he shouldn't.

"I'm sorry, Bill," continued Lily's father, "I don't mean to – Ted understands. He understands. I don't want this forever on his shoulders. He's so young – you don't know what he's been going through –"

"I know," said Uncle Bill, almost aggressively, "I'm sorry, Harry, but I know all of this. None of it erases the fact that I've lost a daughter –"

"You weren't the only one who loved Victoire," Lily's father interrupted, "Ted –"

"She was my daughter, Harry!"

"And Ted is my godson." Lily had never heard her father talk like that to Uncle Bill, like he was stern and irrefutable anchored. Lily felt something soar in her chest, something like pride.

"I know," said Uncle Bill. He sounded tired and Lily knew her father had won. "I know, Harry."

"I'm sorry, Bill. Please, this has been hard enough."

"Yes, it has been hard enough. I – maybe I wouldn't feel – but I can't erase the fact that this might have been prevented…."

"It was an accident, Bill."

"It could have been prevented, Harry. Vic –" Uncle Bill's voice broke. Lily felt that blank, pulsing, wild panic rise in her head again, _couldn't cry. He couldn't cry_. "Victoire might not have died."

"Oh, Bill," said Lily's mother, her voice a gasp through tears. Lily felt her eyes sting. She felt her throat close.

"Please understand," said Uncle Bill, "it isn't that I – that we blame Ted. We don't. I can't deny that I – I might have done something to prevent it, too."

"Don't – _don't_ think like that, Bill," pleaded Lily's mother. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was a terrible, terrible, unspeakable accident…."

"And please, Bill," said Lily's father, "we can't let this destroy Ted. I'm his legal guardian and even though he's of-age, I have to think of him."

"I know, Harry," said Uncle Bill, sounding so heavy, so tired. Lily felt a hot tear slip down her cheek and dribble down her chin.

"I love you, Bill," said Lily's mother; Lily could tell by the way her voice was muffled that her mother had buried her face in her brother's chest.

"Thank you," said Uncle Bill. "I'm sorry, again. I –"

"It's alright, Bill," said Lily's mother.

There was another rush of flames, signifying Uncle Bill had left. Lily listened for a moment longer, not able to discern the murmurs of her parent's lowered voices. She rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hands and turned to make her way back to her room.

She jumped and almost fell backwards when she saw Teddy sitting on the top stair, white-faced, brown-haired, and utterly still.

For a moment it appeared as though he didn't see her. Then his eyes drifted to hers, and held there. Lily felt her heart stammer.

He gave her a strange look. His mouth half-way turned up, as if to smile, but he looked like he was in pain. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes, making the shadows there grow to dark circles; his pupils gleamed in the dim light.

"Tell them in the morning I've gone out, Lil," he told her and stood up. His voice was low, quiet, unreadable.

She stepped against the wall as he passed her on the stair. She saw him hesitate before passing over the kitchen doorway, unwilling to let her parents catch sight of him, she knew.

Lily longed to beg him not to go. She felt a terrible misgiving about the way he had looked at her. She felt the hair on her arms raise in gooseflesh. She felt her stomach twist in horrible, unreasonable fear. Whatever she wanted to say to him was stuck against the block in her throat.

She just stood quietly and watched him leave.

* * *

Thank you again for taking the time to read it. I hope you enjoyed; review?


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